


Hannictober ficlets

by cutglasscaress



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Candy, Costumes, Dark Will, Demon Hannibal, Fluff, Ghosts, Halloween, Hannictober prompt, Humor, Inhuman Will, Jack-o'-lantern, M/M, Possessive Hannibal, Scythe, Wendigo, Werewolves, trick or treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-19 07:43:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8196415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cutglasscaress/pseuds/cutglasscaress
Summary: A collection for this year’s Hannictober challenge





	1. Trick or treat

“Trick or treat, really doctor?” They had both been in a quirky almost teasing mood since the start of the session, and Will’s expression was merely amused.

“I thought it would be appropriate to the season.” Dr Lecter rejoined.

“Alright, I’ll bite. How would that work?”

“We would each claim to confess an unpalatable truth, and the other would ascertain whether that statement were true or not. And if they were correct they would get a treat.”

“A... treat? And what form would this ‘treat’ be in?”

“Something one of us feels the other needs or wants and is unable to confess to it.”

“I see. You really can’t switch it off any more than I can.” But there was no bitterness to that, only a weary smile. The mood was still light and teasing.

“Shall I begin, Will?” And at a wave of Will’s hand –

“When I was a child men came to our house and killed my family. I tracked them all in the following years and killed them.”

Dr Lecter’s expression had not changed a jot. He may as well have been regaling Will with the latest weather report. Everything felt frozen in time, the air between them still and quiet yet containing the promise of storms in multiple possible futures that would have catapulted Will’s world to unknown dangerous shores.

Before his imagination ran away with him (and it was really champing at the bit there) Will remembered what they were doing.

This was a game.

Will’s eyes closed letting the tension and relief ease with a long sigh, then opened them and looked at his companion. Dr Lecter was still waiting for a response, head cocked minutely to his left. Was that an extra crinkle of amusement around his eyes? Well, damn him! He almost had him. Will had to concede that Dr Lecter had a very good poker face.  

Will’s half amused, half indignant look made Hannibal’s lip twitch.

“Ok, I see what you are doing there.” Dr Lecter raised an enquiring eyebrow. Will humoured him with his insight.

“You keep telling me I should allow myself to enjoy good things in my life, since according to you I deserve them. So you confront me with an obvious untruth so that I can easily state it’s a lie and claim my ‘treat’. Clearly this was never a real game, and your only object was to force me to accept something nice.”

“And remember, Will, your treat is something I think you should have and that you need.”

“Yeah, I get it. It’s your choice. And I guess I trust you enough to know my taste.”

Dr Lecter was definitely determined to know Will’s taste.

“Well, you’ll have time to stop me if you disapprove.”

Hannibal stood up from his seat opposite him and slowly yet irrevocably took the two steps needed to reach Will. Those few fluid movements were charged with feline grace and power, which Will did not in any way find alluring. Hannibal stopped right in front of him, his eyes never leaving Will’s. He slowly lowered himself to his knees. Will’s breath caught, his enlarged pupils obvious in his wide eyed blushing face. Hannibal kept eye contact even as he slowly unzipped Will’s trousers, slowly undid his button, and excruciatingly slowly took out his cock which, no matter Will’s state of mind, had easily caught up with the proceedings and was well on its way to a happy ending.

“Yes, my dear Will, you deserve all the treats I will bestow upon you.”

 


	2. Skanky halloween costumes

“Are those...” Will swallowed. Hannibal could not possibly want... But Will’s mental map of his friend was expanding all the time into unknown territory, and tonight he felt like he had stepped through the looking glass.

“I thought you would appreciate the theme. I’m sure you are familiar with the work in question.”

Will side-eyed him. The work had cult status and in his youth he had indeed been ‘familiar’ with it. It had helped to pay for his education, after all. But surely Dr Lecter could not possibly know...

“You... – he cleared his throat, overwhelmed by the possibilities – You want me to wear those.”

“Indeed, I thought it would be a seasonal touch without being traditional.”

“Yeah, no kidding. But if I’m wearing that, you can’t get away with just a long black coat, you know? If I have to stick to the theme, so do you, Dr Lecter.”

“But of course, my dear Will. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Hannibal undid the belt and the mere three buttons which had loosely kept the coat from offering a glimpse of what lay beneath, and with a flourish threw it back off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Which is pretty much what happened to Will’s jaw.

The glory of Frank N Furter’s ensemble greeted his eyes, and he struggled to marry this black bodice vision to that of his suited psychiatrist. He failed abysmally. How could Hannibal look so good? It was as if he was master of any situation, comfortable in any clothing or lack thereof. Will envied him with a passion.

“I think” – and here Hannibal extended a lace gloved hand to Will’s chin, encouraging eye contact – “your costume will quite compliment my own, and will be lovely on you.”

Will blushed, aware of embarrassment and arousal. He licked his dry lips and felt a frisson of lust by the rapt attention that elicited. He looked at the tight gold shorts teasing him with past memories. Whether Hannibal knew or not, here was an opportunity to gain new, more pleasant ones.

Will took a step back, relinquishing Hannibal’s touch but baring himself to his undivided attention. He began unhurriedly to unbutton his shirt, revelling under the intensity of Hannibal’s gaze. He shed his layers, feeling a quiet sense of power in the charged atmosphere. Hannibal’s eyes devoured him as he stood naked before lifting the shorts from the chair and slipping them on. The silky fabric stretched luxuriously over his erection.

They stood for a moment in front of each other, admiring and admired. Then Hannibal, ever the gentleman, proffered his arm for Will to take. Will grinned.

“Did you wear the heels so you would be so much taller than me?” He wondered how he could walk so well in them, and decided he would definitely ask him about that later.

“My dear Will, the heels are merely part of the costume. But yes.” Will laughed and leant into Hannibal, grasping his arm tighter. He definitely liked the strength he felt there. His cock twitched in his golden cage.

“So, in the spirit of this theme, should I expect the main course to be Meatloaf?”

Hannibal’s smile seemed to hold an extra layer of amusement “Nothing so plebeian, I assure you. But meat is definitely on the menu.”

 

 


	3. Werewolves

Will peered out the window. There he was again on the porch, regular as clockwork. This time he was laying down elegantly and somewhat primly, tail neatly tucked around his flank, long legs stretched out in front, Anubis style.

When it happened the first time, Will had tentatively stepped out and heard the most distinguished (no other word for it) whuff come out of his mouth. He had eyeballed him and muttered “That doesn’t fool anyone, you know.” He got a deceivingly innocent stare back and then the wolf pointedly crossed his paws and tilted his head slightly to the right, all attention on Will. Yeah, no one could ever mistake him for a dog.

The words statuesque, noble, imposing, came surging through Will’s mind in a slightly embarrassing inventory of superlatives. Also, huge. He commanded not only the space he physically inhabited but somehow his presence stretched out around him like an almost palpable aura.

Even now that feeling had not abated with familiarity, even though the dogs were no longer frantically whining from his presence. He had clearly been accepted in the pack, and had philosophically (though somewhat smugly) submitted himself to this fate.

Will had no idea why the wolf kept visiting him. Until the moment that he did.

 

“How was your guest?”

Will sighed and sunk further into the comfort of his chair, cradling the single malt and staring into its amber ripples.

“Will? Is everything alright?”

This was embarrassing. And talking about it with Dr Lecter even more so, since the man seemed to find his visitor particularly amusing. Or rather the effect he had on Will.

“He’s been leaving ... presents.”

He looked over at the doctor for a reaction. He knew damn well that werewolves leaving ‘presents’ was considered courting behaviour. He had stopped referring to him as ‘it’ early on, since any attempt to distance himself from his guest’s motives by referring to him as such had failed miserably. He had more personality than most people, and there was a lot to be said (ha!) for non verbal communication.

Dr Lecter’s eyes were smiling, and his voice was a little teasing. “And how does that make you feel?”

Will swirled his drink, staring into its depths, unsure of the doctor’s light tone and feeling a little defensive.

“How do you think? I found a huge _stag_ in front of my house. And there he was next to it, smug as you like, blood all over his muzzle.”

Will was not going to mention how that made him feel, that bizarre frisson of excitement. Or the blush he had experienced when the huge predator had moved to his side and licked his hand.

Dr Lecter waited, saying nothing, merely watching Will with his inscrutable intensity. Will fidgeted and mumbled.

“Why couldn’t he stick to rabbits?” – and at Hannibal’s querying look – “He brought me rabbits the two previous occasions.”

Hannibal leant forward minutely, no longer teasing. “Perhaps he began with rabbits as a way to ease you into understanding his intentions. Once the path was laid, it was time to show you how he could provide.”

“I don’t _need_ providing. And there’s nothing comfortable or easy about finding a dead deer on your doorstep.”

“ _Are_ you uncomfortable, Will? Did you reject his gift, knowing what it meant?”

Will shifted in his seat, self-conscious as he felt the full weight of Hannibal’s attention. He surrendered to the inevitable.

“I... the buck’s in the freezer. And we ate some of it together.” He sighed. “I like him, as a wolf. I don’t know him as a man. Why hasn’t he visited me in human form?”

“I agree that it is unusual. Have you considered that you may already have met this person, and he may be gauging whether you would be comfortable with his other side before he reveals himself?”

Will had thought of it. Truth was he had an inkling, but was afraid to set his heart on it in case of inevitable disappointment. But if his hopes were to be answered, he needed to be bold.

He met Hannibal’s gaze. He lifted the glass, never losing eye contact, took a slow indulgent swallow of whisky, licked his lips. He could see Hannibal tracking every movement.

“I think he must have the answer to that by now, and yet he still hides. Why do you think that is, Dr Lecter?”

Hannibal’s lips curled. Those teeth looked particularly sharp in the reflected firelight.

“I suspect he is well aware that the wolf would have been the easier part for you to love. Perhaps he was waiting for you to make the connection, and to welcome the man as well.”

Will placed the empty glass on the table. He looked at Hannibal, the only person who had ever truly understood him, and wondered how the man could possibly think that Will would reject him.

“I liked it” – Will admitted somewhat breathily – “I liked that you hunted for me.” He felt his pulse quickening as Hannibal’s lips parted, eyes half hooded. He looked as much a predator as his wolf.

They regarded each other in the charged silence. Dr Lecter’s smile stretched over sharp fangs which seemed to lengthen as Will watched in spellbound fascination.

Then the doctor assumed his veneer of crafted civility –

“Would you dine with me tomorrow, my dear Will? I’m serving a young buck I brought down whose chase was quite diverting.”

Mr Brown’s obsession with Will since his visit to the BSHCI had driven the young stalker to Will’s house. Hannibal had easily caught his spoor and the hunt had been most satisfying.

Will smiled back, something primal unfurling from within. “I’d like that. And next time we should hunt together.”

“Darling Will, I will hold you to that.”

 


	4. Candy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU - Demons are known

That night he has the dream.

He wakes up covered in sweat. It’s only when he peels back the sodden sheets that he notices the state of his boxer shorts and grimaces. What the... He can’t remember the last time _that_ has happened. His dogs are giving him curious looks. Oh, god, has he been moaning aloud? He studiously avoids their gazes, scrupulously scrubs himself in the shower, and briskly gets ready for work.

It must have been the chocolates. They have aphrodisiac properties, right? And they were the most mouth watering chocolates he had ever tasted. And since Dr Lecter would no doubt offer nothing but the best to his guests, that would make them the best aphrodisiacs. And of course he dreamt about Hannibal. He made the chocolates.

 

Every night for a week the dream haunts him. Every night his partner thrills him with his touch, breathes endearments onto his skin, pounds him into the mattress. In glorious tactile detail and surround sound, no less. It’s not often he gets vivid erotic dreams, and wakes up to feel like he has been ridden hard and put away wet. Will would seriously consider going to a psychiatrist about it but, well...

 

He has been sitting in the car for a good ten minutes, thinking unsexy thoughts. Blood spatter, decaying bodies, Jack Crawford. But he cannot put it off any longer – it would be rude to be late.

“My dear Will, so glad you could come.”

His host smiles warmly and invites him in. Will follows him into the kitchen, where another of the doctor’s fancy creations sits in solitary splendour on the island. The mere memory of that taste has his mouth watering and his cock twitching. This time there is an assortment of dark luscious chocolates on a delicate bone china dish, and his host is pouring coffee in two matching cups.

Will moans at the first mouthful.

“This is delicious.”

Dr Lecter gifts him with a fond smile.

“An original organic recipe handed down through generations.”

Will makes appreciative noises while Dr Lecter indulgently watches him. The coffee sits steaming and forgotten while Will’s eyes close instinctively to further submerge himself in the experience. Seriously, what does Dr Lecter put in these? He is terribly tempted to take a third one, but forces himself to dive for the coffee instead. He gulps the hot liquid which instead of washing away the taste seems to enhance it, making him visibly shiver with... something.

His hand is not quite steady as he places the cup back on the saucer. He looks up. Dr Lecter is watching him with a mix of fondness and excitement which is hard to assess, but sends tendrils of arousal coursing through him. Unbidden, his attention reverts to the bone white plate and its scattering of offerings. An urgent instinct scratches at his mind, but he’s not been feeling himself lately, and that same mind has been playing tricks on him. He’s not sure what he can trust. He rubs his face wearily.

“You look tired, Will. Stay over tonight. I don’t think it would be safe for you to drive.”

And just like that, something clicks. “I’m not sure how safe I would be here, Dr Lecter. Tell me, what did you put in them?”

Hannibal bestows on him a genuine proud smile, which soon turns playful. “Something that our kind finds easy to come by.”

He’s always known of Dr Lecter’s supernatural nature, but what manner of creature had been unclear. Now, scattered pieces begin to join up in Will’s mind. The toe curling food, the blush inducing dreams, the awful puns.

“You put...oh!”

Hannibal leans towards him, eyes never leaving Will’s expressive face, which seems to be cycling from shocked and annoyed to embarrassed and aroused.

“My darling, I do admit to having added a special ingredient. Yet none of this would have any effect on you if we were not uniquely compatible. The chocolates would merely taste like exceptionally good candy. No more than that.”

Will struggles for a while longer. He’s not sure quite what he feels, and no doubt those damn chocolates are having an effect on his decision making abilities. But he can’t deny that he has always found Hannibal attractive, well before sampling anything of his.

Will sighs. “So what now?”

Hannibal’s smile is wide and wicked. “Now we make your dream come true.”

 

 


	5. Haunted house

Dr Lecter paused in his stirring, the wooden spoon hovering over his reheating masterpiece.

“What was that?”

Will turned towards the sound, seemed to gauge the quality of it and nodded to himself.

“Oh, that would be the ghost.”

Dr Lecter turned away from the source of the noise and scrutinised Will’s face, surreptitiously checking for signs of humour/concussion/insanity. Will caught the look and smiled.

“You don’t have to believe me. But I assure you that there is a ghost and I’ve seen it several times. We are all quite used to it.” The dogs did indeed seem rather relaxed and had barely perked up their ears at the sound.

“And what does this ghost look like?” Will caught Dr Lecter’s tone, light and obviously amused, and decided to play along.

“Oh, young, handsome, dark luscious hair, big brown shining eyes, _very_ friendly. Sometimes I find him lying on the bed.”

Hannibal paused during this recitation of the ghost’s many attributes, the spoon held a little tighter than the stirring warranted.

“You never mentioned him before, Will. Or is he a recent guest?”

“Oh, no, he’s been here a while. You can hardly blame me for keeping quiet about it, what with the prevailing views about my sanity. Once you see him, you’ll be as enchanted as I am.”

Dr Lecter’s views on enchantment did not encompass anyone beyond Will, least of all someone he considered an extremely rude uninvited guest. It was irksome to realise that his extracurricular skills could not provide him with resolution in this matter.

Will was sporting the most delightful fond smile as he was setting the table and Hannibal knew it wasn’t directed at him. He began to make a mental list of all members of the clergy he knew who could be prevailed upon to perform an exorcism. His mood soured as he realised that he had only just eaten Monsignor Aldini a week ago.

“And this familiarity does not disturb you?”

Will had wandered over to a drawer, rummaging through it in hopes of finding napkins. He vaguely recollected Hannibal leaving a couple when they last had dinner at Wolf Trap (although he called them serviettes, because of course he did). So he was in a good position to hide his smile from the man as he replied –

“Oh, no, I’m quite used to it. It’s like having a house guest without having to conform to any set behaviour. I mean, I can just hang around completely naked when he’s here.”

The spoon met the side of the saucer with a discordant thud. Dr Lecter fastidiously wiped the few sauce spots that had shot out of the simmering pan. Will bit his bottom lip trying not to laugh, but Dr Lecter was too familiar with his body language to miss this.

His tone was decidedly frosty - “You seem to find this very amusing, Will.”

Will turned toward him, a mixture of contrition and barely contained hilarity.

“Hannibal, I feel in all fairness I should tell you his name.”

Dr Lecter felt that something had escaped him during the conversation, and he was sure that Will had purposely played on that lack of knowledge. He eyed Will with what he considered a rather stern look, only to find him smiling fondly at him (at last! The circumstances were hardly ideal, but still).

“Coco. You know, from his coat.”

Will’s grin was infectious, and Hannibal found his sour mood dissipating at once. He couldn’t look away from the enchanting man before him, until Will suddenly sobered up and sniffed the air.

“Can you smell burning?”

 

 


	6. Will-o'-the-wisp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another name for Jack o’ lantern

It was absolutely fascinating watching Will descend into one of his fugues. Dr Lecter set the stoneware pot aside, giving up on reheating it for the time being, and turned his full attention on his host. He carefully observed Will’s eyes rolling back into his head, his body shuddering in his seizure, and moved to his side to check his vital signs. As he ascertained that Will’s health was not in immediate danger, he stepped back ready to catalogue his behaviour. Will settled to an unhealthy stillness, eyes now shut, sweat coursing down his face, looking like a renaissance Pietà.

Just as Hannibal was considering adding his own brand of stimuli, Will’s eyes opened. He did not seem aware of his surroundings, and his gaze was distant and glassy. His body language showed the most intriguing change, going from the rigidity of his fit into a stance far more relaxed than Hannibal had ever seen it. And then he moved, assured and unhurried.

He stepped out of the kitchen, opened the front door, and swiftly started walking. Hannibal followed, losing a little time donning his own coat, and after a moment’s consideration, grabbing Will’s jacket as well. The late autumn night was cold and Will was completely unprepared for a night time stroll. He had no coat or jacket, no wooly hat (and here a little fond smile crept up on him at the recollection) and no gloves.

Will was striding steadfastly to the woods. Hannibal wondered about the lack of moon and the chances of losing Will in the trees, but his night time vision was better than most people’s and he was fairly confident that he could keep him in sight. And yet as he reached the edge of the wood Will was nowhere to be seen. Hannibal focused on the slightest movement or noise, but it was as if Will had simply disappeared. Just as he was thinking to return to the house for a torch, a light shone among the trees. Hannibal plunged into the darkness, eyes fixed on the glow.

 

He was not sure how long he had been following it before it occurred to him how odd the nature of the light was. And how impossible that Will could have a torch about his person, even assuming he had regained his faculties. Potentially he could be following someone else out in the woods at night, but if so, they may have spotted Will and indeed they may be following him right now, in the spirit of a good Samaritan or in his own spirit. That last thought made him hasten.

At any rate it was the only lead he had. He was surely only a few minutes away from the figure and tried to narrow the distance. Sometimes the shimmer seemed closer and brighter yet the gap never narrowed, no matter how quickly he moved.

It was at this point that he realised the woods were still surrounding him, when he should clearly have come out into fields by now. He stopped. The only light was ahead, always just ahead, and it was not nearly enough to reveal any discerning details, yet he was aware that the trees were much larger than they should be, towering above him and blotting out the night sky with their spreading canopies. The sounds around him were unfamiliar, the susurrations alien to his ear. The glow remained steady, no nearer or farther than before.

He looked back to the way he thought he had come, but the lights of Will’s house were nowhere to be seen. His hand slipped into the pocket of his coat, grounding his senses in the sharpness he encountered there. He turned back to the light and was surprised to find it coming towards him. As it neared he gripped the metal tighter.

The illumination was coming from Will. His whole body was faintly shimmering. Rather than casting a reassuring light, he seemed to be a part of the uncanny darkness. Hannibal’s breath caught at this vision of beauty.

Will stopped a mere two paces away from Hannibal. His eyes were no longer glassy and distant, but shone with a fierce luminosity. His mouth stretched in a dangerous smile. Hannibal was fascinated by this apparition and though he maintained a good grip on the scalpel he was more curious than dismayed.

“You know what’s ironic, Doctor Lecter? I had no inkling about my ancestry until you tampered with my mind. So I suppose I have you to thank for releasing my inner self and letting me embrace who I truly am.”

He spread his arms wide to encompass not just himself, but the primal woods around him.

“And what exactly are you, Will?” Hannibal enquired, thoroughly intrigued.

“Well, depending on which tale you believe, we guide travellers to treasure or to their doom. So, which do you think it is?”

Will’s feral grin was enchanting and his eyes shone with a dark fire, and Hannibal had never felt the lure of another’s darkness as strongly as he did now. For the first time he felt like he truly belonged, by the side of this kindred spirit, and if these were to be the last moments of his life, he would die happy.

“My darling Will, I do believe it is both.”

 

 


	7. Scythe

“Tell me again how you got roped into this, Will?”

Hannibal fussed over his costume with a fond smile, while Will fidgeted and tried not to drown in the enormous black outfit. He was currently struggling to tie the rope belt around his middle without tripping over it.

“You’re hilarious.”

He gave up his struggle with an exasperated sigh, resigned to looking ridiculous on the day. The annoying get-up had been handed to him a few hours before the event, putting paid to any thoughts of amending it.

“Seriously, this was made to fit a giant, not an average sized man.”

Hannibal hid his smile as he attempted to fold in the extra cloth with the belt, with limited success. The garment was definitely made to fit a larger man, but perhaps this was not the time to point out to Will that he was quite... compact. He couldn’t help thinking how delightful his Will looked in this oversized Death attire, complete with scythe. Especially since said prop was considerably smaller than such an instrument should be, and therefore rendered the whole costume rather comical.

He clearly had not been as careful as he thought since Will cast him a scathing look muttering – “Yeah, laugh it up. It will be even more funny when I trip over this damn robe.”

Will sighed. He hated any kind of activity that put him in the limelight, but he could hardly have refused helping the charity drive for the local dog shelter. And apparently Death was the only outfit left, though perhaps he should be grateful since at least he would not be expected to mingle very much. He gave the plastic scythe a disgusted look.

“I have a perfectly serviceable one in my barn. But I can’t very well take it when I risk stumbling at every step. Probably end up chopping someone’s head off.”

“This event sounds more appealing by the minute.”

Will’s eyes narrowed in a way that Hannibal knew either meant no sex that day, or really hot angry sex. He could never know with Will. But he certainly knew that tonight his post-event romantic plans would be scuppered, and he had no intention of letting that happen.

“May I propose a change in plans? I will wear the costume for the two hours required.” He watched amused as Will’s eyes grew soft with unrestrained gratitude. “But I will require you to sharpen your scythe. I intend to go in style.”

Will poured profusions of thanks as he wriggled out of the robe and quickly and joyfully escaped to the barn. Hannibal picked up the offending material from where it had been unceremoniously dumped on the floor of the living room. He spent some time patting down the odd scuff on it and shaking the dog hairs out, until it met with the minimum of his exacting criteria. When he put it on the fit was perfect.

He pulled the cowl over his head and walked to the outbuilding. The door was open, the telltale sounds of metal being sharpened issuing from within. These ceased just as he was about to enter and Will appeared at the threshold, almost bumping into him, busy giving his scythe a critical once over.

Will stared, mouth slightly agape. “That is disturbingly good on you. In fact” – and here he placed a hand over his heart in melodramatic fashion – “I feel an overwhelming need to unburden my sins, _padre_.”

Only the slight curve of Hannibal’s mouth was visible from the cowl. “I don’t think we have quite _that_ much time.”

Will snorted as he passed the newly sharpened scythe over. There were still dull patches over the surface, but most of the rust had been removed.

“Here, take it, let’s see the whole effect.”

Hannibal hefted the blade, considering its weight and balance.

“I admit to being rather surprised at you owning such a thing. I suppose it came with the barn.”

There was a slight delay to Will’s reply. “Yes... I guess so.”

Hannibal raised his eyebrows in query, then realised Will was unable to see them. “You guess so?”

Will’s eye roll was fond exasperation. “I would hardly have paid much attention to something I was never going to use. And before you get any ideas, no, we are never using that.”

“My darling, it is a fitting metaphor, but hardly practical.”

Yet the glint did not leave Hannibal’s eyes, and though unseen, Will was well aware of his curiosity as he huffed and made get-on-with-it gestures.

Hannibal stood there in full regalia, posing and smiling at Will’s impatience, holding the scythe with the kind of easy familiarity of someone who wielded dangerous blades every day. Which, as Death, Will supposed he would. And as the Ripper, he knew he did. Either way, the very last being a person would ever see.

He quirked a little smile at Will’s impressed gaze, and began to sweep his implement with a rhythmic grace and elegance that belied the unwieldy tool, as if brandishing scythes was something he did every day.

“Show off” – Will muttered fondly, even as he watched in admiration.

The blade sang through the air, looking brighter and sharper than Will remembered. An extension of the robed figure who swirled and twisted, creating a pattern of fluid dance, almost hypnotic. The flowing garment seemed to billow and spread beyond its physical confines, to bleed into its surroundings like ink in water, swallowing the last light of the day. Will blinked. A trick of the light, no doubt.

A heavy chill settled on the clearing, no sounds except the swishing of the blade, smooth and implacable. A shiver had begun at the nape of Will’s neck and his confounded imagination was threatening to overwhelm him.

“Hannibal?”

All motion ceased. Hannibal stood there, the hands gripping the scythe looking very white in the dusk. The robe was just a robe, the scythe a dull gleam in the dim crepuscular light. The quiet sounds of evening seeped back into the clearing: twilight bird song, the rustling of leaves in trees. Will was peculiarly aware of the rhythm of his own breaths and the reassuring beat of his heart.

Hannibal pushed the cowl back, surveyed the tool in his hand with focused scrutiny, looked back at Will. The residual light seemed to highlight the red hue of his eyes. They stood there in tense silence until the beep of Will’s phone roused them.

“Uhm, I set the alarm to make sure we got there on time.”

“I suppose we had better go then.” He hefted the scythe and proceeded to the house.

Will didn’t feel quite as foolish as he thought he would when he asked. “Are you sure you want to take that?”

Hannibal paused, considering. “I believe I will be fine so long as you stay close by my side.” He smiled, eyes full of affection. “As I will be, for the rest of our lives.”

Will blushed, still unused to Hannibal’s worship. Hannibal’s fingers sought his own and, hand in hand, they made their way to the house.

 


	8. Wendigo

She would never wake up. The doctors held little hope, and there was nothing he could do.

Dr Lecter had been so solicitous, sharing the vigil with Will whenever he could. Many a time they had both sat by Abigail’s bedside in companionable silence, sometimes talking to her, holding her hand, waiting and hoping.

As they made their way out of the hospital Will tried to hide his despondency and despair. Dr Lecter took one look at him and steered him to the Bentley, professing his concern with Will’s driving in his state, and insisting he stay over at his house. Will didn’t have the energy to object, and was secretly grateful for his company.

Dinner was a relatively simple affair, considering whose table it was. And quiet, hardly a word spoken between them.

Dr Lecter waived away all Will’s apologies for his lack of conversation and urged him to retire early.

 

When Will closed his eyes and finally succumbed to sleep he was thinking of his stream.   It was a crisp autumn day, peaceful and filled with the quiet murmur of water. He flicked the line, watching its progress through the air. As it landed a ripple began to expand from the point of contact.

Then something emerged from the depths, tall, antlered and black.

He could sense the creature’s curiosity as it observed Will’s world. It was unnerving, yet oddly unintrusive, as if it belonged there. Will watched it wade through his river, its tall black body unimpeded by the currents, dipping its clawed hands in the rippling waters. Its eyes never left Will’s as it approached. There was something there, almost familiar, though the connection eluded him.

Soon it stood before him. He was quite unprepared when the voice issued forth from the creature’s mouth.

“I can wake her.”

“I take it there is a price.” The creature inclined its head. Will nodded grimly and motioned for it to continue.

“I have observed you for some time, Will Graham, and for the first time in my long existence I find I wish for companionship. I would like you to be my consort in this life and in that which follows.”

A blush suffused Will’s features.  “Why me?”

The creature’s smile was disarming, the white teeth shockingly human and reminiscent of someone.

“I have slipped into the landscape of your mind, and felt it calling to my own.”

“And if I agree, I will belong to you forever?”

“Yes, my dear Will, forever.”

He knew without a doubt that dream or not, this pledge was real. He experienced that perfect clarity you rarely have in the waking world and had no hesitation.

“Yes, I agree.”

The creature stepped closer, its clawed fingers extending to gently cup his face. Will froze, caught in the fathomless depths of its eyes. That dark hungry gaze left him trembling with something primal and unnameable. He thought it should be fear.

The last thing he remembered was the feel of that touch, and the dark skin which shone with the iridescence of starling wings. It was beautiful.

 

“Good morning, Will.”

Will mumbled a greeting as he leant back on the kitchen island, gratefully accepting a mug of coffee. The memory of the dream was still vivid, although with the arrival of morning he felt foolish to hold any hope. Surely his desperation had played tricks on his mind and his dream had just been that. And yet even in the sober light of day he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He needed to know, one way or the other, or it would drive him crazy. He told Dr Lecter he was calling the hospital and quickly dialled without further explanation. His fingers were shaking and it took him two tries to get through.

Afterwards he stood gripping the edge of the island, mind whirling with the news. Abigail had woken that morning. The hospital staff had been busy checking her over, but at present it appeared that she had suffered no damage from the long coma. They would be doing further tests, but she could receive visitors soon.

He hadn’t realised that Dr Lecter had moved to stand in front of him, until he felt warm fingers brush his hair. And as he returned to the present, those fingers moved to cup his face. He swallowed, his gaze searching those peculiar eyes. A strange feeling of déjà vu overtook him but before he could assess it Dr Lecter had closed the distance, placing a tender kiss on his lips. Will’s breath caught, startled. Hannibal moved away giving him space, still watching him. Will looked at him, really _looked_ at him. The scales fell from his eyes.

“I always keep my promises, Will.”

 


End file.
